


What a Beautiful Mess

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22545490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Joly ignored him. “Did you and Enjolras have fun together before the meeting?” he asked instead, in an idle sort of way, and Grantaire paused, his beer halfway to his lips.“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile.While the fact that he and Enjolras were dating at best, or just sleeping together at worst, was not exactly a secret, Grantaire had decided at the beginning not to talk about it, or even so much as acknowledge it, just in case he jinxed it.It must’ve worked, because just last night they had celebrated one whole month of not jinxing it.But it also explained Joly’s eye roll as he took a sip of his wine before telling Grantaire, sounding far more nonchalant than Grantaire had remotely managed, “Maybe not, but you missed a button on your shirt.”
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 344





	What a Beautiful Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Just about seven years ago, I published my first Les Mis fic. True to form even now, it was E/R, modern AU, angst with a happy ending. I had no idea what to expect as far as the response to that fic would be, and, of course, had no idea that I’d still be here, seven years later, still writing about the same two idiots in love.
> 
> I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for the incredible support of the Les Mis fandom. Y’all have been with me through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and I truly do mean it — I would not be here today if it weren’t for you. Not just here writing, but very likely here at all. Fandom is such a strange, bizarre and utterly beautiful place, and thank you to everyone who has made this fandom something that feels like home.
> 
> This one’s for you — E/R, modern AU, a touch of angst, and whole lot of love. Here’s to whatever beautiful mess comes next.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Title comes from the Diamond Rio song. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

The dull roar of conversation in the back room of the Musain quieted as Enjolras stood up to start the meeting. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door creaked open and Grantaire made his way to his seat, holding two beers and mouthing what could either have been an apology or an expletive.

It was a sign of how things had changed between them that his tardy appearance warranted nothing more than a slightly exasperated but mostly fond look as Enjolras waited for Grantaire to be seated before beginning. “Now that we’re all here,” he said, a little sternly, but with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, and as he continued talking, Grantaire let out a happy sigh, lounging slightly in his chair.

“You seem happy,” Joly said in an undertone, and Grantaire arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of beer.

“You say that like I normally walk around scowling.”

Joly ignored him. “Did you and Enjolras have fun together before the meeting?” he asked instead, in an idle sort of way, and Grantaire paused, his beer halfway to his lips.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

While the fact that he and Enjolras were dating at best, or just sleeping together at worst, was not exactly a secret, Grantaire had decided at the beginning not to talk about it, or even so much as acknowledge it, just in case he jinxed it.

It must’ve worked, because just last night they had celebrated one whole month of not jinxing it.

But it also explained Joly’s eye roll as he took a sip of his wine before telling Grantaire, sounding far more nonchalant than Grantaire had remotely managed, “Maybe not, but you missed a button on your shirt.”

Grantaire looked down at himself, his mouth opening and closing again like a fish gasping for water. “That– I mean– I do that all the time,” he blustered, quickly trying to fix the problem and somehow only managing to make things worse. “I mean, it’s not like it means anything.”

“Of course not,” Joly said, taking another sip of wine to hide his smile. “But like I said, you seem happy.”

Grantaire muttered something incomprehensible as he finally fixed the buttons on his shirt, but when he glanced up at Enjolras, it was with a smile on his face.

* * *

Combeferre glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper and offered a bod to Enjolras as he emerged from his bedroom, already on the phone with the permit approval office at City Hall despite it being only a few minutes past their opening time. “Yes, but you’ve given no explanation for denying our reasonable use permit request,” Enjolras said impatiently, giving Combeferre a distracted wave before yanking on his coat. “Believe me, I’m more than happy to file an appeal, but you and I both know you would save yourselves some time and grief if you just approved it now—”

He broke off as Grantaire stumbled out of the bedroom, wrapped in Enjolras’s duvet. Enjolras’s expression instantly softened when he saw Grantaire, though his tone was no less impatient when he told whomever had the unfortunate luck of picking up the phone that morning, “Then tell your supervisor to call me themself and I will be glad to walk them through the city code on what constitutes ‘reasonable use’.”

He hung up and slipped his phone in his pocket before reaching out to pull Grantaire to him. “Sorry to rush off,” he said before kissing Grantaire’s forehead. “Meet me for lunch?”

Grantaire opened his mouth as if to answer but yawned instead, and Enjolras laughed. “Go back to bed,” he commanded, leaning in and kissing Grantaire lightly. “I’ll text you later.”

He gave Combeferre another wave, this time accompanied by a slightly sheepish smile, before finally taking his leave. Grantaire stood there for a long moment, staring after him, a goofy sort of grin on his face. Then he shook his head and turned to shuffle into the kitchen, his expression a little dazed.

Dazed enough that he ran smackdab into the refrigerator, and Combeferre snorted a laugh into his coffee mug.

“What?” Grantaire asked defensively, rubbing his head as he recovered his balance, making his way around the refrigerator to the coffeemaker.

“Absolutely nothing,” Combeferre told him, managing to rein in his laughter. “Good morning to you, too.”

Grantaire glared at him as he poured himself a cup of coffee, but by the time he had filled his cup, his glare had disappeared, replaced by the same goofy grin from before. Still, he held his head high as he made his way back to Enjolras’s bedroom— at least until he tripped over the edge of the duvet and almost spilled his coffee all over himself.

This time, Combeferre didn’t even bother trying to hide his laughter, and Grantaire’s dreamy look was replaced by a scowl as he stalked into Enjolras’s bedroom, all but slamming the door behind him.

Combeferre’s laugh slowed to a chuckle, and he shook his head as he returned to reading his newspaper.

* * *

Courfeyrac glanced impatiently at the time on his cellphone before tossing a look at Combeferre, who did not seem to be even remotely concerned about the time. “He’s late,” Courfeyrac said sourly.

“By about 30 seconds,” Combeferre answered calmly, striking something on the blog post he was editing. “I think we can afford to cut him a little slack.”

“Maybe you can,” Courfeyrac grumbled, glaring at his phone again as if he could encourage it to move faster. “I have a hot date after this.”

Combeferre glanced up, his brow furrowed. “Aren’t you and I getting pho after this?” he asked. Courfeyrac leered pointedly at him and Combeferre rolled his eyes, looking back down at his computer, his face burning bright red. “Anyway—”

He was cut off by Enjolras, coming into the backroom not from the doorway, as anyone would expect, but instead emerging from the supply closet. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking a seat next to Combeferre, who looked confused, and Courfeyrac, who looked delighted.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Courfeyrac said blithely, smirking slightly, and Combeferre glared at him.

“You literally were just complaining—”

He was cut off again by the door to the supply closet opening, and this time, a particularly dishevelled Grantaire spilled out, his hair sticking straight up in the back and his shirt on inside-out. He froze when he saw them looking at him, and gave them a slightly sheepish wave before hurrying out.

Courfeyrac was beaming like a cat that had gotten the cream and Combeferre cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “now that we’re all here—”

“Enjolras, I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you,” Courfeyrac interrupted, and Enjolras looked over at him, startled.

“For being a few minutes late?” he asked, somewhat dubious, and Courfeyrac sighed and rolled his eyes.

“No, for your little pre-meeting meeting in the supply closet,” he said, a touch impatiently.

Enjolras still looked confused. “Grantaire and I were just talking,” he said, a touch defensively. Combeferre and Courfeyrac both made disbelieving noises at that, and Enjolras scowled. “What?” he asked.

Courfeyrac sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind,” he said, somewhat mournfully. “My pride is rescinded.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Enjolras told him, but Combeferre was pretty sure he could see just a slight smile lifting the corner of Enjolras’s mouth.

* * *

Grantaire was running late, but that was hardly out of the ordinary, and besides, Jehan was finishing up a chapter in his book, so he didn’t mind waiting, propping his feet up on the empty chair waiting for Grantaire in the café and drinking his tea.

Three chapters later, Grantaire was still not there, and Jehan frowned down at his watch before going to order himself another cup of tea and a coffee for when Grantaire inevitably showed up. 

Sure enough, not even five minutes later, Grantaire rushed in, noticeably out of breath. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, dropping into his seat and standing up immediately when he realized he had sat on Jehan’s feet.

“No worries,” Jehan told him absently, marking where he left off in his book as Grantaire sat back down, this time lifting Jehan’s feet and setting them in his lap. 

Grantaire caught sight of the cup of coffee waiting for him and brightened instantly. “For me?” he asked, and when Jehan nodded, Grantaire grinned. “My hero,” he said, grabbing the coffee and pulling the lid off, reaching for the sugar.

Jehan watched, his eyebrows raised and his cup of tea halfway to his mouth, as Grantaire dumped seemingly half the container into his coffee. “Is everything alright?” he asked, curious. 

“Yeah, fine, why?” Grantaire asked distractedly before taking a gulp of coffee that he instantly choked on. “Jesus Christ,” he spluttered, staring down at the coffee in horror. “What the hell is wrong with this coffee?!”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with the coffee,” Jehan told him.

“Then why does it taste like—”

Jehan patiently held up the almost-empty salt shaker. “Because you put salt in it instead of sugar.”

Grantaire stared at him, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” Jehan agreed, taking a sip of tea. “So, I’ll take it you came from Enjolras’s.”

“What makes you say that?” Grantaire asked, taking another sip of coffee and shuddering at the taste as if he had already forgotten how disgusting it was.

Jehan gave him a look. “Because you’re always distracted after you’ve been spending time with Enjolras,” he said, as if it was obvious.

Grantaire froze. “Am not,” he said, seemingly on instinct alone.

Jehan just shrugged. “Whatever you say,” he said unconcernedly, and Grantaire stared down at his coffee for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Goddamnit.”

* * *

“Are you watching me sleep?” Enjolras asked with no small amount of amusement, not lifting his head from his pillow, even as Grantaire was propped up on his elbow, looking at him.

“That would require you to actually be asleep,” Grantaire pointed out. “And seeing as how your alarm is about to go off—“

As if on cue, Enjolras’s phone chimes loudly and Enjolras sighed, reaching over to turn it off before rolling back to face Grantaire. He stretched, pausing when he saw Grantaire still watching him. “What?” he asked, slightly defensively.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, before hesitating and telling him, almost desperately, “You just — you look perfect.”

“You’re biased,” Enjolras told him with a laugh, running a hand through his blond curls.

“Maybe,” Grantaire allowed, “but you and I just woke up from sleep and had pretty fantastic sex on top of that, and while I look like I’ve gone nine rounds in the boxing ring with Bahorel and am lucky I can string a sentence together, you’re cool as a cucumber, not even a hair out of place.”

Enjolras smirked. “That’s because I’m better at this than you,” he teased, but his grin faded when Grantaire didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Grantaire shrugged, and Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What is this really about?”

Grantaire was silent for a long moment, reaching out to trace a finger up Enjolras’s side. “It’s probably nothing,” he hedged, but Enjolras captured his hand with one of his own, holding him in place.

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “Talk to me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m in this more than you.”

Enjolras stared at him. “In what more?” he asked.

Grantaire shrugged, carefully pulling his hand away from Enjolras’s. “This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “Us.” Enjolras’s expression darkened and Grantaire hurried to add, “It’s just that I love you so much that every time we’re together, I feel like the air’s been knocked out of me, and I know we’ve never put a name on this so maybe you don’t feel the same, and that’s ok, but—“

Enjolras cut off his babbling by kissing him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. “I’m in this,” he told Grantaire, resting his forehead against his as he ran his fingers lightly through Grantaire’s mess of curls. “Don’t ever think that I’m not. I just—“

He broke off, clearly searching for the right words. “You say that when we’re together, it’s like the air’s been knocked out of you, but when we’re together, it’s like I can stop and breathe again.” He made a face, as if what he’d said sounded inadequate to him. “At every other point in time, I have to be a million places at once, doing a million things at once. But when I’m here with you, it’s just you.”

He ran his thumb lightly across Grantaire’s cheekbone. “When I’m with you, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about. So when I have to leave, I guess I’m just better at keeping it together because I’m still focused on what matters.” 

He kissed Grantaire once more before rolling over and standing up, padding over to his dresser to grab some clothes and get dressed. Grantaire rolled over onto his stomach to watch him, his usual goofy smile still a little smaller than usual. “”As much as I realize that’s supposed to be sweet, I’m not entirely sure it is,” he complained, propping himself up on his elbow again. “Especially since I’m the idiot walking into things and putting salt in my coffee, and you…” 

He trailed off as Enjolras sat down on the edge of the bed next to him to put his shoes on. “And I, what?” Enjolras asked, amused.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Absolutely nothing. Other than the fact that I love you.”

Enjolras looked at him suspiciously but nonetheless leaned over to kiss him. “I love you, too,” he said. “See you at the rally. Please try not to be late.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Grantaire promised, still grinning, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he shrugged and made his way out the door.

Grantaire lay back in bed and closed his eyes, mentally counting down in his head, until—

“Were you really going to let me leave the house with my shirt on backwards?” Enjolras demanded, standing in the doorway and glaring at Grantaire.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Grantaire murmured sleepily.

Enjolras scowled and pulling his shirt off to put it on the correct way. “You are such a—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire reached out and pulled him back to the bed, tugging him down so he could kiss him once more.

“It was just nice to see you as distracted as I normally am for once.”

Enjolras’s expression softened and he kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “I love you,” he told him. “Some days I sure as shit don’t know why, but—”

Grantaire just laughed. “I love you, too. Backwards shirt and all.”


End file.
